Keep Writing
by sultal
Summary: Based on a true story.
1. Chapter 1: Shit

**Chapter 1: Shit**

I was annoyed. A little.

Really, only a little.

I mean, when you're in graduate school and clocking 15+ hours in clinic smack dab in the middle of midterm season, your brain gets pretty fried.

So, it's not like I was apathetic about the _Disney meet and greet_.

I love _Disney_.

To be brutally honest I was "that girl" in a class of 25 year old cohorts. But today, I was unhappy _Disney_ girl. Annoyed _Disney_ girl. I-just-don't-have-the-energy-or-time-to-care-that-much _Disney_ girl.

So, with a chip on my shoulder, sleep on my mind, and three exams on my conscience, I ordered the largest _cinnamon–almond –double–mocha latte_ on the menu, parked my butt in a chair, flipped open my _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System: Foundations for Rehabilitation_ text book, and waited for this whole dumb meet-and-greet thing to be over.

I had signed up for this _Disney_ meet and greet under….happier circumstances.

Last summer. That's when had I signed up.

I grunted into my coffee, remembering.

It had been a good day. Last day of finals. I'd aced my _Movement_ exam and totally owned the _Spinal Cord Injury Rehabilitation_ practical.

It was May, the sun was shining, my favorite band was playing locally on Saturday, and my hair happened to look fantastic (which in itself is a miracle). To top it off, I'd just bought new _Saucony's_ (for TWENTY dollars – shipping included) that were orange, aquamarine, and blue-violet – all my favorite colors.

Basically I was Jennifer _freaking_ Lawrence.

Invincible. Confident. Stunning.

And I was ready to start my month of vacation with the best run of my life.

And it WAS the best run of my life! I pumped 8 miles of glorious road in my twenty dollar _Sauconies_. Uphill, downhill, gravel, grass, tidal wave – you name it. I ran it.

That's when…I saw the flyer.

It was one of those flyers stapled to a telephone pole on top of a zillion other flyers. But this flyer was different. It…was glittering – appropriately because it was drenched in glitter.

…I was in a good mood.

…So at that time glitter was super attractive.

…So I read it:

_**DISNEY MEET AND GREET**_

**MEET THE ORIGINAL, REAL LIVE DISNEY CHARACTERS**

**JANUARY 11 OF NEXT YEAR**

**REFER TO THE REGISTRATION NUMBER BELOW**

**BE THERE**

**DON'T MISS OUT**

**I'M TALKING TO YOU**

**!NO KIDDING!**

**(HAVE A MAGICAL DAY)**

It was signed by Mickey Mouse.

"No way!" I had blurted, taking the flyer and stuffing it in my sports bra. Laughing, I turned my iPod to some _Disney_ song or another to finish the workout. "No way!"

_Way_.

Long story short, here I was…couple of months later, stressed out of my mind, drinking a five dollar coffee in a room full of art school rejects and five year olds.

Embarrassed, I slammed my textbook shut. A couple of thespians with nose rings and major attitudes gave me the once over as I stuffed _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_ under my arm.

"Who the Hell am I kidding." I muttered, darkly apologetic to whoever was judging me. Hiding behind loose hair, I charged for the exit. "I don't belong here anymore."

_BAM_.

The second I turned the door handle, everything went black.

Of course.

Everything also went silent. Beautifully, utterly silent.

Then…

…golden sprigs sprouted across the room. Shyly at first, intertwining and collapsing into dribbles of sparkles. Then, without warning – I mean, I kinda jumped – the golden sparkles sucked together and exploded. Fireworks sizzled to the ceiling, falling like pixie dust on our upturned faces until a very familiar voice said:

"Hi-ya folks!"

Mickey. Mickey Mouse. M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E!

My mouth dropped. My jaw hit the floor.

He was real. Sure the flyer advertised it but…who would have believed?

I turned to one of the five year olds. I blurted something unintelligible and pointed at Mickey Mouse.

She gave me a look that basically translated to _duh_.

"Welcome one! Welcome all! Welcome to the _Disney_ Meet and Greet!"

I sat.

The air started to shimmer as the particles vibrated to the tune of "Be Our Guest." Cool.

"We're all happy to have ya!" Mickey Mouse said. His white gloves glowed as he swept his arms.

"And boy oh boy was it a hassle to get ya all! Although it may seem those flyers were happy coincidences randomly placed, each and every one of you was actually _chosen_ to be here tonight!"

I blinked. My proverbial butt slammed hard onto reality.

_Excuse me? Chosen to be here to tonight?_ I thought of the glittery flyer and its irresistible charm – so irresistible that I stopped in the middle of my workout to look at it.

Minorly paranoid and majorly annoyed at the swooning nose-ringed thespians, my first thought was: _Um ok…creepy._

My second thought was: _Why me?_

Mickey Mouse beamed. "I suppose you are all wondering 'why me?'"

_Like Hell you suppose right!_

"You have been chosen…" continued Mickey Mouse, addressing the audience at large. "…because you need a little help. Everyone here needs something different. A little guidance. A little motivation. A little encouragement. A little friendship."

I swear Mickey Mouse looked straight at me. "A little kick in the pants."

My heart stopped. Then it did this crazy somersault in my throat. It took a few more laps around my rib cage as Mickey Mouse continued with his speech.

"Whatever or whichever the reason….you are here. And we are here. All of us. To help. With a little faith. A little trust. And…."

"_Just a little bit of pixie dust!" _sang the thespians, five year olds, and art school rejects in rhythm.

I did not partake. My voice tingled but it didn't get to my tongue or past my reservations. Smothering my guilt in skepticism, I glared at the sticky-notes curling out of my _Kinesiology _textbook.

"Each of you will be visited by three characters." Mickey Mouse said. "These characters _represent you_. Your personality. Your dreams. Your goals. Your fears. Your secrets. You will meet them. You will speak with them. It will be just like looking in a mirror."

Excitement buzzed in orchestral tones. I held _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_ against my stomach. It felt like cannibal butterflies were having a war down there.

Why was everyone so excited? I _hated_ self-assessing.

And pardon my French but _how the Hell_ could these _Disney_ characters know anything about me? About my life? About my responsibilities? About my…

….secrets?

No. I was not going to be vulnerable. No way.

Resolve bolstered, I stood up. I turned to leave for a second time.

I stopped.

Every single _Disney_ character ever made….was there. They lined every wall, filled every corner, blocked every exit.

I was breathless. Utterly breathless. So…hugging my textbook…I sat.

Mickey Mouse smiled.

"Time for the first character….mark, set, go."

I don't know why….I really don't…but I closed my eyes.

I heard Genie from _Aladdin_ high fiving one of the nose-ringed thespians.

I heard Ariel from The _Little Mermaid_ saying "Hi!" to one of the art school rejects.

I heard Anna from _Frozen_ kneeling by the five year old.

Then, I heard someone tapping the hardcover of _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_.

Heart going ballistic, I opened my eyes.

"Shit. I _would_ get you."


	2. Chapter 2: Our Fears

**Chapter 2: Our Fears**

Captain Hook.

Captain _freaking_ Hook.

"The pleasure…." said the pirate, dislodging his hook from my textbook cover. He sat. Cool and contemptuous as the hook on his left hand. "…is all mine."

_Great…now he was being sarcastic._ All we both needed to exacerbate an unpleasant situation.

Looking around, I waited for Mickey Mouse to tell Captain Hook to buzz off and go destroy someone else's life.

_No such luck._

I caught the eye of Anna and five year old. Both looked super sympathetic, but offered zero assistance. Desperately, I looked to the thespians and art-rejects. They all gave me looser signs.

_Cute._ I guess reckless acts of defiance against self-admitted villains only exist in the movies.

Well! This sleep-deprived girl was looking for a fight anyway!

Fired up and ready to argue, I returned to Captain Hook.

A fistful of his blue-eyed gaze punched me right in the face. Choking on my objections, I stared.

Captain Hook's eyes were so blue. So blue! Aquamarine with a white explosion stretching from tiny, black pupil. The intensity was paralyzing.

Mesmerized, I kept staring as Captain Hook's gaze captured me like a spider web. In the back of my mind, I wondered what could break the spell.

"Blasted. Look at you. I consider this a shanghaied evening. Wasted."

Spell broken. Problem solved.

"Join the club." I muttered. Still a little awed, I picked at the hole he punctured into _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_. "I have a midterm coming up that I just started studying for."

He raised an eyebrow. "Midterm?"

"A test."

"A test? For what purpose?"

I glared. "Assessment and intervention of musculoskeletal insult and pathology."

Captain Hook smiled. Somehow, I got the impression he knew I was purposely speaking in non-layman terms to make him uncomfortable.

Clearly, it was not working.

"Verily…" Captain Hook smoothed a finger over his moustache. "You are a physician?"

My fingers dug into the hardcover. "No. Sort of. It's a doctorate program. Physical therapy."

"Explain."

I rolled my eyes. "A doctor of muscles. Movement. Physical therapy."

He scoffed. "Useless profession."

_Oh. No. He. Didn't._

"Ex_cuse _me?" I said, ignoring the secret smiles exchanged by the thespians and art rejects. "Physical therapy is not useless! People depend on me to move. That's huge. I mean come on, what greater gift –"

"Until you can teach man to fly…" Captain Hook interrupted, perfecting a dirty nail with his hook"….then I query the worth of your services."

"Oh that's rich!" I blurted, pointing at his hook. "Dude, you have an amputation! I treat people with amputated legs, arms, and sometimes both – "

"—That, my Dear, is laughable." said Captain Hook. Grinning ferociously, he raised his hook. "I taught myself, trained myself, and toiled to gain control of this hand."

"That's a hook. Not a hand. We call them prosthetics."

"Never –" continued the captain, twisting his hook at my face. "—Never did I grovel for the assistance of a scrimpy little wench. No. Through my own blood, pain, and anguish –"

"—lovely –"

" – _I _mastered my hand." he growled, digging holes into my textbook. "Me. Myself. Captain James T. Hook."

I shook my head, incredulous that I had to sit through these insults.

"Isn't this supposed to be a compare—and —share—your—personality—thing?" I said, sliding my textbook from under his hook. Glaring, I moved it into my backpack. "Because if so, you're doing a terrible job."

Captain Hook smirked. "My Dear…what exactly do you think we've been doing? We have been comparing personalities."

"Not convinced." I said, sitting back in the chair. Darkly, I crossed my arms. "We are nothing alike. _No way_ you represent a part of me."

"….you think so?"

I paused. Captain Hook spoke placidly, but…threateningly. Uneasily, I shifted, blood freezing in my veins.

"You're the magical fairytale creature." Clearing my throat, I tried to sound confident. "You tell me."

Captain Hook looked at me.

Then, he spoke.

"We…are very much alike."

His eyes flicked up and down like knives, dissecting me.

"You are intelligent but…cunning…sly. Good with words. Acting – or so you call it –but know it to be lying."

My chest dropped somewhere on the floor below my chair. I gaped as the pirate continued.

"And grudges. Oh dear me…grudges." Leering, Captain Hook leaned across the table. "My…my. You hold them maliciously against your heart. They drive you. They make you strong. Just. Like. Me."

I leaned back. Acclimating to the shock, I shook my head, trying to deny the truth.

"That's…that's….I'm _nothing_ like you!"

Captain Hook reached. He clenched my wrist. "Don't be a fool. We are exactly the same."

"Dream on Captain!"

"I know what you fear. _Our_ fears."

"Bowl shit!"

Angrily, I wrenched out of his grip. "You are afraid of a crocodile! And I know that you all _hail_ from Orlando – land of the crocodiles – but all we have to fear up here are snow storms and people that say 'pop' instead of 'soda!' So, _Captain_, why don't you just park your – "

"—you fear embarrassment."

I stopped. An avalanche of memories burned hot in my head. Still, I tried to deny it. "N…no. No I don't. I don't care what people – "

Captain Hook flicked a finger at the door, cutting me off. "Lair. You go out of your way not to be embarrassed. Why…so embarrassed were you to be here, that you nearly walked out."

I scoffed. But my face was blood red. "Stupid. This is so stupid." Hefting my backpack, I turned out of the chair. "I don't have to take this. Whoa!"

The table wobbled. Captain Hook darted forward, his arm snapping down like a whip. In a flash, he pinned my sleeve to the table with his hook.

Bag falling from my shoulder, I looked up. "What the —"

Captain Hook's eyes gouged into mine.

"But most of all…." he whispered, placing a finger under my chin, "…you fear…Time."

My heart stopped. In the back of my head, I remembered the _Peter Pan_ movie…and Captain Hook shivering in fear whenever he heard the_ tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…_

"You fear…" Captain Hook breathed through my reverie, "…that you will run out of time. You fear that you will go to school...work...and die. You fear that you will die…without the time to even try...for your dreams."

Slowly, he twisted the hook from my sleeve.

Then, Mickey Mouse spoke.

"All righty folks! Switch it up! Time for the second character….mark, set, go."

Emptily, I looked up.

Captain Hook was gone.

And my second Disney character was sitting there instead.


End file.
